


Each Shining Light, Each Silver Bell

by Rumpels



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Abuse, Christmas, Community: HPFT, Dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 20:43:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6486763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rumpels/pseuds/Rumpels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As he leaned over to pick up the coat hanger, an idea popped into his head. A wonderful, spectacular idea that would make his Mum smile -- he was sure of it.  </p><p>Character Vignette: Severus Snape<br/>2017 MFWHATA Winner (Most Pureblooded) on HPFanfictalk</p>
            </blockquote>





	Each Shining Light, Each Silver Bell

December 24th, 1969  
Cokeworth, England

 

The town of Cokeworth was particularly dreary in the wintertime. Smoggy skies shrouded the entire town, dimming even the daylight to dusk. A thin layer of gritty snow lay across the tin-topped roofs of tightly packed houses and church bells tauntingly rang in the distance. Near the polluted river, down Spinner’s End, caroler’s sang between the groups of adjoined houses.

Severus Snape stood in front of the parlour window, his hands pressed firmly against the dusty sill so that he could lean farther forward. He knew if he leaned far enough, he could see the lights from the Christmas tree by one of his neighbor’s windows. Most years he had a tree of his own to decorate, and he didn’t have to scout the adjoining houses to see the lights.

He enjoyed the lights. There was something about them -- something peaceful, something quiet, something safe -- that made him feel happy. 

His Mum said that they wouldn’t be having a Christmas tree this year, though. “Don’t worry, love,” she’d reassured him, “I’ll be making mince pies and turkey for Christmas dinner.”

As his nose bumped the dirty, nicotine-stained window, he heard the front door slam shut with a bang! Startled, he stumbled backward away from the window and scurried across the cool, wooden floorboards and into the kitchen. 

Eileen was stirring a blackened pot on the stove, humming monotonously to herself. She hadn’t seen him enter, so he sank to the floor behind the counter, slipping slightly on a grease that had been spattered across the yellowing linoleum. He couldn’t tell what she was cooking for dinner, he was too close to the garbage pail whose frightful fumes overtook that corner of the small kitchen. It didn’t much matter what she was cooking; the thought of dinner made his stomach grumble.

He could hear his father’s footsteps as he entered the kitchen. His Mum stopped humming, and the refrigerator opened.

“Supper ready?” Tobias asked, his voice gruff from years of smoking and drinking.

His mother replied, “Not quite.”

Severus closed his eyes. The shouting started again, his father’s voice booming through the house like gunshots, echoing off at each carefully spun word. He held onto the bottom of the counter, trying to push himself closer, praying he wasn’t seen. He swore that one day his father’s voice was going to shake the house too much, and then it would come crashing down around them, burying them beneath his anger.

The loud crash of the pot on the stove being thrown to the floor, its hot contents splashing onto the linoleum. He watched the pool of broth seep past his hiding place, rolling along steadily as though it had somewhere better to be.

He waited for his father to withdraw to the lounge and his mother to busy herself with sopping up the mess before coming out of his hiding place and retreating towards the stairwell. He’d stay out of the way and out of trouble if he were to stay in his room.

Glancing back at his mother, he saw her sneak her wand from her apron pocket to quickly clean the mess. He smirked, wishing she’d use her magic more often. Maybe when he was allowed to use magic someday, he’d come back and help her clean up the house.

~*~

 

Severus managed to stay out of his father’s way most of the evening, but his stomach was beginning to rumble again. He tiptoed down the stairwell, while silently cursing each creaking step on his way to see what food he could scrounge up in the cupboards. Tobias was passed out on the couch in the parlour and his Mum was leaving for work.

“Can’t we have a small one?” he asked while hugging his mother in the doorway. 

The cool, crisp air flooded the already chilled house, and Eileen grimaced. “A small what, Severus?” she asked impatiently.

“A tree. Can’t we just have a small tree this year?”

His mother sighed, her expression softening. “Not this year.” She pulled away from her son and offered him a tight-lipped smile before leaving.

It was starting to snow again, he noted as he shut the door behind her. There would be a temporary fresh layer of white snow over its grey predecessor soon, and Spinner’s End would be blanketed beneath its purity. It would make the place seem normal, for a change.

He headed for his room, where he would be quiet for the rest of the night. He could wrap his Mum’s present. He’d been collecting beads for a few years now -- all kinds of beads, with different shapes and colors, and some even sparkled -- and he’d finally collected enough to make a complete necklace. He had to make sure that the beads went all the way around, to hide the dental floss string he was using. It was the only thing that he could find that was thin and strong enough to hold it together.

Lost in his thoughts, he turned the corner into the parlour slightly too sharply, and his foot caught the bottom of the coat hanger. It was like slow-motion, watching the tall spindly rack tumble to the ground, while his hands extended forward and grasped air as its stem flew right by them.

It landed on the floor with a clatter.

Tobias snorted loudly in his sleep and rolled over, facing away from Severus.

He waited a few more moments before exhaling. He was safe.

As he leaned over to pick up the coat hanger, an idea popped into his head. A wonderful, spectacular idea that would make his Mum smile -- he was sure of it. 

Carefully he moved tall rack into the kitchen. Usually, the tree was set up in the parlour, but decorating would make too much noise. He couldn’t wake up Tobias. He would be in trouble, and that would mean not being able finish his decorating.

Once he passed the refrigerator, his stomach churned unpleasantly, reminding him that he was still hungry. He set the rack down and frowned. He couldn’t work on an empty stomach, at least that’s what his father always said. He pulled a step-stool up to the cupboard, high above the countertops and began searching around for something to eat.

His pasta had been undercooked because he was in a hurry, and the canned crushed tomatoes were a bit watery, but it was good enough. Severus had a lot to do in a short amount of time.

The back door wasn’t used much at all during the winter, and the tree would only be up for one day, so he decided that was the best place for the rack to stand.

Quietly creeping back down the hall to the closet where the Christmas decorations were held captive for year’s majority was a hazardous mission. Between the squeaking floorboards and the labored groan of the closet door, he had to be extremely cautious or else Tobias might wake up.

With each grating step, Severus’ heart beat quickened. He tried to hold his breath, which sounded as loud as the gusty gales of a hurricane to his ears. Even when opening the door while painstakingly conscientious of his actions, it still moaned its expected, dull tune. He stood still for a moment, hardly breathing, while listening attentively for any signs of his father in the other room. Moments ticked by endlessly, and he couldn’t convince his heart to stop thumping so furiously in his chest.

He wasn’t sure of just how long he’d stood there, wishing he were invisible and praying his father wouldn’t stir. It could have been hours. A quick glance out of the window, where the streets were still dark with night, disproved his theory. He gingerly tugged the soot-dusted cardboard box out and began the long walk back to the kitchen. He would close the door later, or maybe tomorrow if he thought he could be up early enough to get to it before Tobias noticed.

Wrapping the tree skirt around the base of the rack, he noticed that it’s been tattered and torn. It was probably mice. They were always getting into everything.

The stringed lights were tangled, of course, when he lifted them from the box. He hated untangling them -- it always took far too long, and he’d usually wind up tangling them worse once or twice before he’d finish. With a grimace, he sat on the linoleum and leaned his back against the counter, playing with green strands of lights.

After some time, he’d managed to unmuddle the mess of lights and began wrapping them strategically around the coat rack. He wished that there were more than six hangers to string the lights on, with some lower ones so it looked more like a tree. This would have to do, however, so he spiraled the lights down the length of the rack. Half the bulbs on the string didn’t light up when he’d plugged it in to check. It was expected, but it was still frustrating. It was yet another tedious task of decorating a Christmas tree. Every time he replaced a bulb where the thought he’d found a problem, more lights blinked out. Eventually, he’d managed to fix most of them. There were a few that just wouldn’t light up scattered about the rack, but they were hardly noticeable.

He hung decorations from the wires, sliding the metal hooks between the woven strands and pinching them into place. They were old and fragile, and the paint was chipping and cracking, but they seemed to fit the tree perfectly. He knew that his parents couldn’t waste money extravagantly on new decorations for the tree, so he’d made one for his Mum last year, which he placed near the top, right at the center. He’d taken an old picture frame and decorated it with smooth stones of various hues and shapes and strung with a green ribbon, because green was her favorite color. He found a picture in an old photo album -- one with him and his Mum when he was an infant, because she was smiling in that one, and she didn’t smile all that often -- and glued it inside, so it would stay in place.

She’d liked it, he thought. She said she’d liked it.

After carrying the step stool to the tree, he finally placed the angel at the top of the tree with great care. The angel was the most important part of the tree, especially that angel. His Mum had said that the angel had belonged to her Mum. Severus had never met her, but she said that he would have liked her. His Mum didn’t talk about her too much.

He stepped away from the tree, smiling with satisfaction.. He’d done a good job, considering what he had to work with. He pulled the carefully wrapped present from his mother out of his pocket and placed it on the tattered skirt beneath his tree, losing himself momentarily in the wonder of the lights. Now he wouldn’t have to spy on the neighbor’s tree.

He’d sat peacefully on the linoleum for a long time, just watching his tree. When he was smaller, he used to peek down into the parlour from atop the stairs so he could gaze at the lights. That’s how he found out that his Mum was actually Santa Claus. Not that she was actually Santa Claus -- he knew better than that -- but that she was the one who left his presents under the tree in the middle of the night.

After a while, he thought it was best to return to his bedroom, however. He didn’t want to be caught out of bed at such a late hour.

~*~

 

As Severus woke, a newfound excitement for Christmas filled him and he jolted from his bed. He was eager to see his Mum’s reaction to his tree that he’d worked so hard on creating for her.

He’d made it to the top of the staircase when he could hear the arguing. Tobias must not have approved of his tree, he thought grimly as he hesitantly descended. He hadn’t thought ahead of his father’s reaction if he didn’t like the tree.

Peeping around the corner of the door frame into the small kitchen, he saw his Mum scowling, shaking her head in disapproval as she set a tin of mince pies on the countertop.

“He’s only trying to help,” she said. “It was a nice thing for him to do.”

“Nice?” His father’s spitting words caused Severus to wince. “Nice? The boy ruined the coat rack! If we were going to have a tree, we’d have a proper tree, not some -- some manky proxy piece-of-shite! We may as well write ‘Pikey’ across the doorway while we’re at it!”

Severus gasped as Tobias began pulling down his lights and decorations, sending some of the bulbs tumbling down to the floor. Some of the delicate shells cracked and splintered on the floor.

“He gets this from you, you know? It’s in him too, that freak blood running through him. If you had been a normal munter, maybe we’d have a normal boy!”

The anger that surged through Severus rivalled that which was etched his mother’s face. He wanted to defend himself, and his Mum, and his tree, but his feet remained rooted to the ground and his mouth stayed glued shut.

The argument continued on in slow motion before his eyes as Eileen shouted back. The tray of mince pies tumbled to the floor and, with one yank of the string of lights, so did his tree. He watched his Mum’s angel float helplessly to the ground, where its porcelain face disintegrated into tiny fragments as it made contact. The coat rack fell with a clatter soon after, and Tobias slammed the back door shut as he left.

His Mum walked past him as she entered the hall, gazing at him briefly on her way through, soundlessly.

He stepped over the mess on the floor cautiously, inspecting the carnage that once was a carefully decorated Christmas tree. While picking up the newspaper-enveloped present for his Mum, he frowned. It had become trampled on in the chaos.

Gingerly, he pulled back the wrapping to check on the necklace, and the beads spilled out onto the floor.

fin


End file.
